poetry by j matthew waters

field trip out to the country

they told us to put on our jackets
then marched us into a half-sized
blue bird bus
they didn’t tell us where
we were going and everyone sat
quietly as the driver listened
to the game on the radio
looking out the rear window
the city slowly dissolved
giving way to rows of young corn
and green soybean fields
we passed farms with barns and silos
with cows and horses and sheep
and occasionally the stench of manure
led to the holding of noses
an hour went by and we started
to whisper to one another
speculating where on earth
they could be taking us
“quiet down back there” the nurse
shouted without looking back
and everyone hushed
and rolled their eyes
this ain’t no fucking field trip I told myself
looking at all the frightened faces
I could tell they thought the same thing
disbelieving sarcastic smiles saying
holy shit we’re all going to die